The Shadow of Great Britain

Chapter 1782 - 93: Eld Carter, the Navy Department’s Little Intelligence Chief

Under the gray-white sky, on Whitehall Street south of Trafalgar Square, stands a simple, symmetrical but hardly imposing white building.

Watermarks from the morning fog retreating still linger between the stone columns of the building’s porch, and if not for the neatly uniformed civil servants from the Navy Department streaming out from inside, who would have thought that this seemingly unremarkable building is actually the command hub of the Royal Navy, reigning across the seas?

Eld Carter’s boot heel lightly tapped on the marble floor.

He relaxed his stiff knuckles, took out his pocket watch for a glance at the time. Before he could step out of the porch, Eld was already impatiently reaching into his coat pocket for his pipe, planning to reward himself with some fine West Indies tobacco.

He had just finished what was said to be this year’s most rigorous Navy Department entrance examination, among the examiners were active officers from the Portsmouth Naval Base, technical bureaucrats from the Navy Supply Department, and even two retired Navy Colonels who had monitored the exams as senior experts.

As for the exam questions...

It started with a few simple arithmetic problems, like: divide 1 ton 13 hundredweight 1 quart 2 pounds of materials into 27 equal parts, how much is each part? Assuming a warship sails at 8 knots per hour for 5 and 2/3 hours, how many nautical miles does it travel?

Then came some algebraic operations, such as solving binary quadratic equations and binary cubic equations, finding the greatest common divisor, etc.

Next was a test of some nautical geography knowledge, for example: given that a location’s latitude is 51°N, and the solar declination is 23½°, calculate the length of daylight on the summer solstice.

The oral test mainly covered Latin and French, but for Eld, this was probably the easiest part of the exam.

As Eld stepped off the porch, his gaze was attracted by the scene across the street.

A dark blue Broham Carriage adorned with gold floral-pattern frames was steadily parked at the street corner.

The window was half-closed, the black curtain hung just right, hiding the person inside, yet a familiar cane head protruded over the window sill. It was Arthur’s usual silver-plated cane, its handle end polished bright, perhaps because he had played with it too long, the eagle-headed staff’s head now showed signs of "premature balding."

The coachman, wearing a tall hat, yawned as he recognized Eld from afar, hurriedly took off his hat and nodded lightly to him, then bent over to gently tap the carriage window.

A few seconds later, the curtain lifted gently. Those familiar eyes looked out at him through the half-open window.

Arthur did not speak, or rather, he couldn’t be bothered to speak, he simply raised an eyebrow at Eld, beckoning the chap to quickly get in the car.

Eld chuckled at the sight, his steps became much lighter, already plotting which restaurant to go for a good feast later.

With a bang, Eld shut the car door, his butt barely touched the comfortable velvet seat, and Arthur’s questioning voice came to his ears.

"Judging by your look, the exam went well?"

"Not too bad," Eld casually replied, as he reached into Arthur’s pocket, rummaging while demanding: "Where’s your cigarette case? I’ve run out."

Arthur didn’t stop him, just raised his chin, indicating the cigarette case in the left trouser pocket: "The Navy Department shouldn’t have thrown any tricky questions at you, right? I heard last year’s candidates were asked: If you’re drifting for three days and nights on the Pacific equator, how do you determine your position?"

"Equator? That topic sounds just barely reasonable. I thought they’d ask: If you’re wandering on the equator of human morality, should you slide north or south?" Eld said, opening the cigarette case lid, deftly plucking up some tobacco to stuff into his pipe: "Yours is good, has a bit of Ivory Coast flavor, strong!"

"Honestly, Eld, how did you really do on the exam?"

Arthur indeed felt a bit uneasy about Eld’s professional skills, though he had received professional education at the University of London, it was in classical literature, whereas the Royal Navy clearly emphasized practical and mathematical assessments.

As for Eld’s math skills?

The only thing Arthur could ascertain was that the Carter family’s eldest son most often said in account matters: No need for change.

But Eld didn’t care about Arthur’s concerns, or rather, he was overly confident in himself: "What’s there to worry about? It’s just the Navy Department’s entrance examination, merely assessing if I possess basic work abilities. If not for fear of gossip, the Navy Department wouldn’t even bother with the procedure. You know what? Only three people showed up for the exam today, competing for two positions, I could hardly be the one left out, right?"

"Just three people?" Arthur pondered for a moment, "What are the backgrounds of the other two?"

Eld struck up a flame, "The same as always, one is from Oxford Magdalen College, and the other is a fellow alum of Charles, a graduate of Cambridge Trinity College."

Hearing this, Arthur immediately felt confident. He adjusted his coat and leaned comfortably against the back of the chair, "It seems sorted out then."

"Right? That’s what I said." Eld chuckled, "The questions I can’t solve, they certainly won’t. And the questions I can solve, they may not necessarily get right. Generally speaking, more than half of the participants in such exams are idiots. Of course, occasionally, there are a few experts. But considering they are holding degrees from Oxford and Cambridge, the probability of them being idiots is about ninety-nine percent."

"Hmm..." Arthur nodded slightly, "But we still have to be cautious, best not to have any major variables. Even if they are idiots, the fact that they secured the exam qualification means they probably have some backing in Parliament..."

"So what if they have backing?" Eld patted his chest, "As if nobody in Parliament has their own connections! I’ve already looked into it. The kid from Cambridge Trinity College is the nephew of the Deputy Chairman of the Treasury Committee in the Lower House, last name Prince. I heard his uncle paved the way for him in the Treasury. Originally, they planned to arrange a direct entry for him, but as you know, Peel’s Cabinet collapsed, didn’t it? As soon as the Whig Party came on, they halted all non-exam appointments immediately to prevent the Tories from rushing people into government departments. His uncle ran out of ideas, so he had to send the kid to go through the motions."

Arthur recalled last week’s parliamentary debate at once, "So... no wonder. No wonder he criticized the naval transport budget for being too high last month, but voted for expanding the Royal Navy last week... With that being said, there should be no issue with the kid from Oxford."

"Exactly." Eld took a puff of his cigarette, shrugged, "But that guy doesn’t look like a military genius anyway. He even has to think about whether to board from the port or starboard side, let alone when he picks up a pencil, the charts he draws look like they were made by someone having a seizure."

"And what about the other one? The one from Oxford University Magdalen College?"

"Oh, that one." Eld exhaled a rounded smoke ring, "Last name Herbert, a distant relative of the Earl of Carnarvon. Claimed to be a top student at Oxford, but in reality, he only knows a bit about Latin inscriptions and Greek hymns. Ever since the parliamentary reform passed, the Woodton Bisset constituency controlled by the Earl of Carnarvon was abolished. Although Heckler Manor still stands on British soil, its influence is long gone. And since the old Earl of Carnarvon passed away two years ago, the Herbert family almost has no presence in the military system now."

Hearing this, Arthur crossed his legs, "If that’s all he is, then you’ve got it sorted about eighty percent."

"Exactly." Eld puffed up, looking quite deserving, "In terms of ability, I’m definitely first. In terms of connections, my uncle vouches for me from my family. In terms of relations, I’m a descendant of the Royal Navy. Even if it really comes down to Parliament, don’t we have Benjamin on our side?"

Arthur pulled out a small notebook from his pocket, "Actually, it’s not just these people."

"Not just these?" Eld was taken aback, "You’ve found other channels for me?"

Arthur did not answer directly; he asked back, "Eld, do you know which department’s exam you’re taking this time?"

"Isn’t it the Hydrographic Office of the Navy Department? I know this department better than you; the Beagle’s voyage mission was coordinated and managed by them."

Arthur smiled, "If you had said so earlier, I wouldn’t have gone to find Captain Francis Beaufort."

Francis Beaufort?

The creator of the Beaufort Wind Scale, the well-known technical expert of the Royal Navy, the Director of the Hydrographic Office!

Eld trembled all over, he almost slapped Arthur.

"You mean, you directly went to Director Beaufort? My God! Didn’t my uncle say that guy is impervious to persuasion? Oh, damn, the old bastard... Arthur, does that mean my interview is going to score full marks?"

"In this regard, you need to thank Colonel Fitzroy and Charles—of course, I mean bald Charles."

"What does this have to do with them?"

Arthur spoke up, "You yourself said that the Beagle’s mission was organized by the Hydrographic Office. This department manages various scientific research missions of the Royal Navy, Colonel Fitzroy was promoted by Beaufort, and our dear Charles Darwin was also recommended by Beaufort to take up a position on the Beagle. In other words, your uncle wasn’t lying to you, Beaufort is indeed a difficult tech-driven officer, but if you can prove your technical capabilities, he is also a leader who is quite lenient and caring towards his subordinates."

"So... did Colonel Fitzroy and Charles both write recommendation letters for me?"

"More than that." Arthur gently shook his head, "Mr. Charles Babbage of the Royal Society, a friend of Director Beaufort, also wrote one for you, for the sake of the research funding I once sponsored for his difference engine."

(This Chapter 3000, if things go well today there should be 2 more Chapters)